Their first time together isn't perfect. In fact, it ends up a little bit ridiculous.

They're not dating at the time, not really. They're in this gray area between best friends and something more that they never define (despite any inner desire to). Sure, they enjoy being physical with each other (making out is awesome, and grinding so much more) and went on a lot of what they call "bro-dates", but they're not boyfriends. (Kitty would snort and beg to differ, though.)

They don't plan it. With the two of them, things go on its natural course and they never saw the point of fighting it, because things just seem… right. They have a movie playing on Blaine's television but neither of them are really paying attention to it when they have much more interesting things to do. On Blaine's bed, so it happens.

(Blaine is wearing his red chinos, the one that accentuates his ass better than most of his other pants, and Sam is only human.)

"We should probably stop the movie," Blaine murmurs against Sam's lips as the blonde starts undoing Blaine's pants.

"Probably," Sam agrees, "but that would mean separating, because I'm pretty sure your remote is somewhere on the floor by now. And I really like where I am right now." To illustrate his point, Sam rolls his pelvis down on Blaine, who gives a groan.

"Point taken," Blaine laughs. He slips a hand into Sam's unbuttoned pants and cups the defined erection straining against the underwear. "Besides, I was thinking that it was about time you got this in me. If you want, that is."

Sam freezes and breathes in deeply. "Oh god," He scrambles to tug Blaine's pants off his legs, "Oh god, dude, of course I want."

"We should really talk about calling me dude in bed," Blaine mutters to himself, but helps with the stripping until both of them are completely naked. It's not the first time they've seen each other without clothes, even in a sexual context, but Blaine always liked to take a moment to admire Sam's defined body with something akin to hunger. Sam makes sure to stretch unnecessarily while retrieving their supplies.

Things start off really, really well, honestly, so naturally, they'd screw up once they got to the main event.

"Just... don't pull out too much," Blaine tries to sound as encouraging as he can with his legs spread as wide as it is.

Sam rolls his eyes and huffs, "Yeah, I kinda got that part figured." He presses his cockhead against Blaine's hole and pushes in again. He waits until he's bottomed out before starting to thrust, but only after two or three does his cock slip out again. He curses.

"Maybe if we change positions?" Blaine suggests unsurely.

"This hasn't been a problem before," Sam sulks, as if it was his fault his cock refused to stay inside and wrapped in the warmth of Blaine's ass for the fifth time.

"Well, usually people have trouble putting it in, not keeping it in," Blaine says wryly. "But don't worry, it's not your fault."

"Yeah, it's my penis's."

They both stare at the offending appendage. It twitches. Blaine bites his lip.

Then the TV reminds them that it's still on and the movie is still playing, when on it Fix-It Felix exclaims, "I can fix that!"

They share a look for a couple of incredulous moments, and fall into helpless laughter.

(They'll try again the next day, and that, that will be so much better.)


Sam learns early on about Blaine's gag reflex. More specifically, his lack thereof. It takes oral sex between them to a whole new level. (Blaine calls it, as a gay man, a God-given gift. Sam is inclined to agree.)

To his credit, Sam is pretty good at giving head for a beginner and he's definitely getting better with all the practicing he does with Blaine. But Blaine, Blaine really knows how to go to town. The first time Blaine did fellatio on him, Sam's eyes practically rolled completely to the back of his head and came (embarrassingly) quicker and harder than he had ever did in his life.

The third time, that's when he finds out how deep his cock can go in Blaine's mouth without choking him. That is to say, pretty damn deep. He doesn't even realize that Blaine about to deepthroat him until he already is, and doesn't that make a sight Sam's not about forget in this lifetime.

Blaine pulls his mouth off Sam's erection and Sam lets out an almost-whine. "Good?" Blaine smiles, his lips shiny with spit and precome and tongue darting out to give the hard cock kitten licks.

"So good," Sam groans, gently yet insistently moving Blaine's head towards his crotch and jutting his hips forward. His cock slides across Blaine's lips and cheek. "Why did you have to stop? Please don't stop."

So Blaine doesn't stop. He puts the cock back into his mouth, licking at the slit and underside with his tongue as he takes it in deeper, deeper until it hits the back of his throat. And when most people would balk at that point, Blaine instead takes more and lets out a particularly filthy moan.

Sam practically yells, and he's so, so grateful that Blaine's parents stay out working late and they have the house to themselves for hours after school and glee club because, well.

Once Sam is out of his post-orgasm daze, he pants, "You have got to teach me how to do that."

Blaine grins up at him while licking his hand clean of his own semen. "I suppose I could spare some time to give you some practical lessons."

Sam returns his grin lazily with his own. "Awesome."


It's not that Blaine is that much smaller, nor is it that Sam is that much bigger. It's just that Blaine is a few inches shorter and his form a bit compact while Sam has to tilt his head down a little to meet his eyes and his body is more filled out and broader. It's those little differences that become more pronounced when they're pressed head to toe against each other.

And oh, Blaine likes that. A lot.

Call it a size kink, but Blaine loves the fact that Sam is just... bigger. Whenever Sam crowds him against a flat vertical surface, he can't help but shift his body to make himself look smaller and look up at Sam through his lashes. And if he notices his now-boyfriend's eyes darken each time, well.

When they're in bed, Blaine likes it when Sam is practically looming over him, covering his immediate sight with just Sam, Sam, Sam. He'd feel Sam's larger hands roaming across his sides, his chest, his thighs, touching the right places with calloused palms. Sometimes, Sam would press their chests together and Blaine lets himself feel the weight of the other man's body pinning him down to the mattress. A few times Sam even traps his wrists in his hands and pins it against the bed, and the sounds Blaine would make at that are almost too embarrassing.

"So is it the being held down thing or what?" Sam asks one afternoon after a particularly enjoyable round of sex.

Blaine blinks, and then blushes, "Excuse me?"

Sam rolls his eyes, as if saying 'Really?', and turns to his side to face Blaine. "What gets you off," Sam says slowly, "Don't think I don't notice those kinds of things."

"No!" Blaine denies, then purses his lip, "I mean, not entirely."

"Okay," Sam nods, "talk to me." (Because that's what they do, what the most important part of their relationship is - the ease they have talking to each other about practically anything.)

"It's," Blaine fumbles, "I mean I like the 'being held down' thing, yeah, but what… gets me off, it's. You, you know? You're just, bigger, I mean. I like that."

"Oh," Sam bites his lip at that, seemingly thinking for a few moments before meeting Blaine's eyes with his own, "I do, too. Like that."

Blaine shifts, "Oh. Okay, cool."

"Cool," Sam grins, and Blaine returns it with a smile that becomes wider as Sam moves to loom over on top of Blaine again.


As far as positions go, both agree that they prefer the ones where they can face each other. That's not to say that they only do missionary - Sam is very partial to being flat on his back while Blaine rides him with wild abandon, while one of Blaine's favorites is being bent over with his ass in the air as Sam pounds into him from behind. Sixty-nine is also an ingenious thing too, in their opinion, as it solves the genuine problem of who gets to suck the other's dick first.

But there's always something more when they're face-to-face and close enough to feel each other's breaths as they watch the other come undone with every touch and stroke and thrust between their sweat-slicked bodies. Therefore it kind of made sense that they like it best when Sam is sitting up with Blaine on his lap and legs around Sam's waist. Their bare chests would slide together and Blaine's erection is trapped between their stomachs as they rock their bodies in gentle lovemaking. Blaine would have his arms on Sam's shoulders to make moving up and down easier while Sam's calloused palms are wrapped around Blaine's hips, guiding him as he slides Sam's cock in and out of himself. They'd share sloppy kisses and deep pants and desperate moans until they reach their climaxes and come down from the high of it.

Afterwards they'd slump against each other, foreheads pressed together and breathes intermingling between the minute space of their faces. And when one of them smiles, and the other one smiles back, no words need to be said.


It's not something they did from the beginning. Neither of them are quite sure when it started, but somehow they're not surprised when they finally notice the pattern.

They're both tactile people, and they've never been shy about touching each other even back during the beginning stages of their friendship. It came to a point where most, if not all, of McKinley don't even bat an eyelash whenever Sam throws an arm over Blaine's shoulder or Blaine tucks himself in Sam's side or they hug for some reason or another in front of the hallway lockers. (If a jock tries to open their mouth to say some disparaging comment, he's met with Sam's unblinking, warning stare or the subtle cracking of Blaine's knuckles.)

The hand-holding doesn't start until half-way during their "friends-with-benefits" stage, a few weeks before they start officially dating. The way Sam unhesitantly slips his palm with Blaine's one their way to class is such a natural movement that Blaine doesn't even question it until Tina asks about it. (He could only shrug at her, because really, there really wasn't much to explain about it.)

It becomes a thing, really. Their hands seem to gravitate toward each other, sometimes satisfied with just the touch of their fingertips, sometimes with their fingers intertwined and fitting like perfect puzzle pieces. It was comforting, for both of them, feeling the warmth of the other's hand against theirs, whether they were walking in the halls of McKinley or having dinner at Breadstix or in the privacy of Blaine's house.

They don't know who does it first, and neither of them really care at this point, but in the midst of lovemaking (not just sex, anymore) their hands find each other, Sam's larger ones enveloping Blaine's and connecting them in more ways than one as they reach their climax. Blaine can feel the heavy press of Sam's palms against his, sweaty and large but warm and comfortingly familiar, while Sam can feel the minute trembles of Blaine's fingers that he gets when he comes after baring himself wide for Sam.

Sam brings their clasped hands up towards him to press his lips against Blaine's knuckles, smiling when Blaine fondly giggles from underneath him. And Blaine mirrors his action, kissing Sam's just as softly.

(Years later, Sam will be kissing the ring on Blaine's finger and Blaine will be kissing the one on Sam's. Not yet, but soon.)

"I love you," Blaine murmurs against the skin of Sam's knuckles, looking up at his boyfriend from underneath his lashes.

Sam swoops down, pressing a kiss on Blaine's lips and squeezing his hand gently, "Good," He murmurs back, "Because I love you, too."